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“Perhaps we shall meet people on Ettinsmoor who can tell us the way,”said Jill.
“You’re right about meeting people,”said Puddleglum.
“What sort of people live there ？”she asked.
“It’s not for me to say they aren’t all right in their own way,”answered Puddleglum. “If you like their way.”
“Yes，but what are they ？”pressed Jill. “There are so many queer creatures in this country. I mean，are they animals，or birds，or dwarfs，or what ？”
The Marsh-wiggle gave a long whistle. “Phew ！”he said. “Don’t you know ？ I thought the owls had told you. They’re giants.”
Jill winced. She had never liked giants even in books，and she had once met one in a nightmare. Then she saw Scrubb’s face， which had turned rather green，and thought to herself，“I bet he’s in a worse funk than I am.”That made her feel braver.
“The King told me long ago,”said Scrubb—“that time when I was with him at sea—that he’d jolly well beaten those giants in war and made them pay him tribute.”
“That’s true enough,”said Puddleglum. “They’re at peace with us all right. As long as we stay on our own side of the Shribble， they won’t do us any harm. Over on their side，on the Moor—Still，there’s always a chance. If we don’t get near any of them， and if none of them forget themselves，and if we’re not seen，it’s just possible we might get a long way.”
“Look here ！”said Scrubb，suddenly losing his temper，as people so easily do when they have been frightened. “I don’t believe the whole thing can be half as bad as you’re making out；any more than the beds in the wigwam were hard or the wood was wet. I don’t think Aslan would ever have sent us if there was so little chance as all that.”
